


Harry Potter and the Summer of the Stepfather

by hes5thlazarus



Series: Lazarus' Harry Potter Daydreams [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, F/F, F/M, James Potter Lives, Lily Evans Potter Lives, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hes5thlazarus/pseuds/hes5thlazarus
Summary: In an alternate world where Neville Longbottom is the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter's parents divorce relatively amicably. Eventually, Lily starts dating again, and Harry finds himself actually enjoying the summer Snape stays over.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Lily Evans Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Lazarus' Harry Potter Daydreams [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954336
Comments: 23
Kudos: 297





	1. a snape is harry's mom's boyfriend story

**Author's Note:**

> originally written on tumblr
> 
> a Snape-is-Harry’s-mother’s-boyfriend story

Harry had known Professor Snape for most of his life, and for all that he could remember. However, time and association did not mean he understood the man, and he didn’t appreciate how strict he was in Potions. He knew he wasn’t as creative as his mother or charming as his father, that was something none of the Hogwarts professors failed to imply. At least no one said it outright.

His parents divorced shortly after he left for Hogwarts. They had been separated for two years before that, shuntling him to Muggle school and magical weekends. His father was fun but got bitchy about his mother, and his mother was busy–Lily still took him everywhere, from studio to gallery to lecture, and between his artist mother and flamboyant famous father, Harry learned to prefer the quiet.

He understood that it was probably best to be quiet when his father remarried. It didn’t help that James took so well to his stepdaughter Nymphadora, it was like they were cut from the same cloth. He was supposed to spend Easter holidays with his dad; he started spending them at school, without telling his mother. Professor Snape caught on by Year Three.

They didn’t talk much. Harry would seem him out of school, looking oddly naked in muggle cloths, to his mother’s show openings. His mother mentioned they went out sometimes on the weekend, but Harry wasn’t aware to the extent of it until Andromeda decided James was taking her on a second honeymoon, during the summer this time. It was supposed to be James’s summer, they started alternating years in fourth year, where Lily kept him and they did not go to the Quidditch World Cup, through Professor Snape did come by the next morning with a copy of the Daily Prophet, and he and Lily went on a walk that lasted til the mid-afternoon.

Thus was the sequence of events that led to Harry blearily walking into the kitchen one morning and being handed a cup of tea by his dreaded Potions professor, who appeared to be wearing nothing but a bathroom. Harry automatically took a sip and grumbled gratitude before he blinked, set the cup down, and checked to see if he were wearing his glasses.

“Do stop mimicking a surprised porcupine, Mr. Potter,” Snape in a bathrobe drawled. It was red and looked silky. Harry, with horror, noticed he had hair on his chest. Snape had hair on his chest!

Lily turned around. She was wearing a man’s t-shirt and a pair of boxers, also black, also silky. “Oh, Harry!” She grinned, covered her smirk with her hand. “I meant to tell you…”

Snape paused.“Of course you didn’t tell him…”

“Tell me what?” Harry blurted out, horrified. “Snape’s your roommate? You’ve realized you’re too middle-aged to do this starving artist thing, so you’re taking in a summer border?”

“Professor Snape, Harry,” Lily reproved, “and I am not middle age, witches can live up to a hundred and fifty, I am barely thirty-five–”

“Thirty-six,” Snape interrupted.

“–Thirty-six, and underneath that statement I hear some patriarchal notions around women’s work and women’s aging, it’s not like your father even has a job–”

“You can’t take in my Potions professor as a summer border,” Harry said firmly, “it’s–it’s inappropriate. Student-teacher fraternization. It can’t happen.”

Professor Snape was smirking at him. Harry scowled.

"But what about my childhood friend and–”

"Didn’t you stop talking for like ten years?”

“It was for seven, stop interrupting, let me finish, Harry. I meant to tell you earlier, but you might have noticed that Severus has been around more and more often–”

"He’s sitting in my kitchen,” Harry said, nonplussed, “what–”

Snape shifted slightly, adjusting his robe. Harry looked disgusted.

“And, well, he’s been staying nights now too.”

“No,” Harry said flatly.

"Yes,” Lily said. “I’m dating your Potions professor.”

Snape was definitely laughing at him behind that shit-eating grin.

"Don’t be obscene,” Harry said. “You can’t be obscene before breakfast. You can’t date my Potions professor, he’s my Potions professor.” Harry stood up. “This is obscene. What if he takes points off when I don’t clean my room or just spend the day on the couch in my pants watching TV? This is obscene. What if I want friends over?” With horror, Harry imagined telling Ron and Hermione that Snape had moved in. Immediately, Ron’s face popped. Do you think they’re doing it? Ron’s voice asked his mind, and sniggered. Harry stared at Snape. He had the relaxed aura of a just-fucked man. “Can you imagine him and Ron Weasley in a room together?” Harry grinned evilly. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to invite Fred and George over, show them my PlayStation…”

Snape wasn’t laughing anymore, but his mother was.


	2. shoes off my table

“Shoes off my table,” Lily barked. Snape looked up at her over his newspaper and then regarded his boots. They were clean but worn, resting on the coffee table. The radio was playing Zeppelin. Harry, still standing by the door, stifled a snicker.

“Off my table,” Lily said again. Snape folded his newspaper and dragged one foot off the table and onto the floor–thunk, and the other foot went down too. Thunk.

“The day’s shopping went well?” Snape inquired smoothly.

“Pig,” Lily said, and set her bags on the kitchen counter, which served them as table in their cramped London two bedroom. Harry deemed it safe enough to walk into the room and set down his bags as well. Snape got up and opened the refrigerator, helping them stock the groceries.

“I had just cleaned my boots, Lily.”

“We have indoor shoes for a reason.”

“You may have indoor shoes. My shoes do well enough.”

“You’ve had them for what, twenty years? Since the summer of seventy–”

“I have replaced my boots in the past two decades, I promise you. And I have multiple pairs–”

“Same brand?” Lily said, eyebrow raised, handing Snape a milk carton. “Same make? Did you find them at a thrift shop?”

Harry cleared his throat. He was stacking dry goods into the cupboard"I thought I’d go out tonight, with Hermione and Dean since they’re so close, maybe see that movie Fargo?“

"Spoiler,” Snape said mildly, “they kill the hooker.”


	3. not enough context

“You and my mum fight a lot,” Harry remarked as he dried the dishes. Professor Snape glanced up from the sink.

“Is that how it comes across?” His Potions professor scrubbed at the bottom of a pot with quick efficiency. “Lily snipes. I don’t let her walk over me. She enjoys the challenge. We’ve been having the same argument about boots on the table since we were twelve.” He dumped out the pot and surveyed his handiwork. He rinsed it out again and handed it to Harry.

Harry was skeptical. “Well, she doesn’t like being disagreed with.”

“She’s not some paragon of perfection,” Snape, suddenly tense, flickered water off his hands and plunged them back into the sink. “She’s wrong. Often. And bullheaded and self-righteous. Rather like you. Gryffindors. Always think yourselves the sword of Saint Michael.”

“What?”

“An avenging angel. Killed the serpent, in the Garden of Eden.”

Harry was silent. He felt like he was touching on history and subtext he didn’t understand. “She’s right most of the time.”

Snape sighed. “Potter, try to learn how to argue with your mother. You do so well with teachers, I thought you had practice from home.”

“Yeah, but Professor McGonagall doesn’t sulk.”

Snape barked with laughter. He handed Harry the last of the cutlery, dripping wet, and shook his head. “Tell her you’re going to see the movie.”

“How about you tell her you lied about the hooker?”

Snape drew himself to his full height and snarled suddenly, “I don’t lie to your mother.” He walked off, leaving Harry holding a dripping hand of forks and a towel. More subtext, more history: Harry didn’t want to know. He had a feeling he’d find out anyway.


	4. breakfast with snape

Harry was almost inured to Professor Snape’s presence at breakfast and dinner. Lily had a rule that the family had to eat at least twice a day together, to stay involved in each other’s lives, and now that family now included Severus Snape, excluding his father and stepmother and stepsister. Harry, starting a fryup while the adults were still in bed–ew–was surprised he wasn’t sad about it.

His parents had always been a bit awkward around each other. His mother always made a big show about finding things to talk about, and really, when all three of them got together now–rarely, but on his birthdays–they mostly gossipped. Poking at the bacon with the spatula, wincing at the sizzling fat, Harry grimaced. Maybe that was why his mother was so urgent on keeping touch. She didn’t want to run out of things to talk about.

He turned on the radio and half-hummed, half-muttered along to the lyrics, the same shitty Blur song that was impossible to sing along to. He and the song was almost done with making breakfast when Snape sauntered in, freshly showered, dressed in muggle clothes–a band t-shirt, worn but perfectly clean, and black jeans. Shirt tucked in, belt cinched, hair tied back: he looked good. Harry realized he was checking out his mother’s boyfriend and hurriedly looked down. Was this bisexuality, or an appreciation for the human form?

“Good morning, Mr. Potter,” Professor Snape intoned, then smirked. “Have you seen your mother about?”

Harry hastily maneuvered the bacon out of the skillet and cracked a couple eggs. They sizzled and popped.

“I see you learned how to cook from Lily,” Snape said, amusement in his voice. “Fry everything in fat.”

Harry shrugged. It tasted good and was quick to make. Who cared? “I thought mum slept in.”

Snape frowned slightly, a wrinkle creasing in his forehead. “Clearly not.” They stared at each other. Suddenly, Snape’s monumental nostrils flared. “Your eggs.” A moment later, Harry understood: burning. He quickly rescued them, dropping them on the same paper towel-covered plate as the bacon. Dropping the spatula in the sink, he turned off the stove.

“We should wait for my mum,” Harry said lamely. “She likes everyone to eat breakfast together.”

Snape grunted. He passed a thumb across his own lower lip, looking away. “A way of being accountable, I suppose. I’m glad she learned to keep a schedule.”

“Sorry?”

Snape sighed. “Harry, move over. We need at least two vegetables in this. You can’t subside on grease alone.”

“Well, you would know, sir,” and Harry dodged away. Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“Quite, Potter,” he sneered, and Harry pressed his lips together nervously. Perhaps the grease joke was too soon. Yeah, it was too soon.


	5. marriage is a bourgeois concept

Lily and Harry were walking to the local bookstore, to choose an Agatha Christie to read together: yet another one of Lily’s post-divorce heal-the-home ideas. This one, though, Harry rather liked. It was better than family therapy. The Professor was striding on ahead. He had sneered at them both for walking so slowly, at one point walking backward to continue teasing them, but then Harry had brought up that time when he was a kid when James had tried to learn how to play football and thought all defense players had to run backwards in the goalie box, and Lily had started laughing and they were both reminiscing. Snape had just gone blank and kept walking, carefully in earshot and glancing back every so often.

“Let’s get another Poirot,” Harry said. “Hermione told me The Hollow’s good, we haven’t read that yet.”

“I wonder if there’s a BBC adaptation,” Lily frowned. “It’d be a good movie night.”

“We could play Cluedo, if there’s not.”

“Mm. And we’ll get Severus to bake us something fiendishly sweet and gooey, to go with it.”

The Professor slowed down. Over his shoulder, he shot back, “I make no commitments to any sort of sweets, but I might attempt something fiendish.”

Lily grabbed at his arm, pulling him in step with them. Severus exaggeratedly grimaced and rolled his eyes to beseech heaven; Harry laughed. “C'mon, Sev,” Lily implored, “don’t you love me?”

“Well,” Severus said gruffly, “that goes without saying. And beyond proving my regard with feats of culinary perfection.”

“Oh, perfection? You think you’re perfect?”

“Would you prefer for me to say your standards have slipped?”

“Your baking is pretty good.”

“Hmm, yes. Baking and chemistry and potions, who would have thought there would be a connection?”

“I did,” Lily said smugly. “Wrote a paper on it fourth year.”

“Yes, with my recipes. For which Slughorn gave me the points, and you the accolades.”

“Well, you were too touchy them, to be known for reverse-engineering a recipe for Jaffa cakes.”

“Oh, you should make us Jaffa cakes,” Harry decided. “Er, professor.”

Severus’ eyes slid to him, almost a wink. “We shall see,” he intoned. Lily rolled her eyes and slipped her hand down his arm and curled into his fingers.

They reached the bookshop. Harry pulled the door open; there was a brief awkward moment where Severus tried to let Harry go through the door first but Lily tugged him forward and nearly made him overbalance. Harry smirked; Severus mouthed, no Jaffa cakes. Arsehole.

They made a beeline for the mysteries. Severus attached himself to the Lawrence Block, murmuring to himself as he surveyed the Evan Tanners, I have this one but no spell-o-tape will fix it, what a ridiculous edition, what a ridiculous price. Lily kept her hand on his shoulder, frowning at the Miss Marples. Harry quickly produced a copy of The Hollow; Lily would gemino them later, and they’d stick until her death. Harry had not inherited her genius and flair with Charms, but he had hopes he’d eventually make them as long-lasting as hers. When he fully grew into his magic.

“I don’t know why I love Miss Marple so much,” Lily said. “I’m not quite interested in charming English spinsters in everyday life.”

“But you’re turning into one. Bluestocking,” Severus said. Indeed, Lily’s stockings were blue.

“And you’re an aging bachelor. Is that a gray hair I see?”

“Projecting,” Severus said sententiously.

“You two should get married,” Harry decided. “You're acting more like a married couple than you and Dad have, after all.”

Severus and Lily stared at him.

“What? You’ve known each other for long enough. You’ve been living together for a bit now. And it’s not like either of you are getting any younger,” Harry was a little proud of the last bit.

“Marriage is a bourgeois concept,” Severus said severely. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Lily eyed him. “Are you saying you don’t want to marry me?”

“Yes.”

Harry froze. Fuck, he didn’t mean to break them up!

Lily let out a sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin. Been there, done that, never again. And I’m certainly not changing my name again.”

Harry, whose heart calmed down, said faintly, “Professor Severus Evans is a little too…wholesome, after all.”

Lily grinned up at Severus. “Sev Evans.”

“Shut up.” He walked away with his Tanner, off to the general literature section. All in all, Harry thought, that went really well.


	6. not enough backstory

“So why do Dad and Severus hate each other so much?” Harry asked. He and his mother were sitting on the sofa. Lily was reading the Prophet and scowling, and Harry was bored with Quidditch Weekly.

Lily sighed. “Because your father’s a dumbass and Sev would rather cut off his hand than release a grudge.”

“Oh. That doesn’t explain much.”

“Well, they got off on the wrong foot on the train to school our first year.”

“It starts that early?” Harry was skeptical. “Dad can be quick to conclusions, but he’s not that bad.”

Lily quirked a doubtful eyebrow. She shook her head. “James heard Sev rhapsodizing about Slytherin–his mum had been in Slytherin, you know–and well. Well. Your grandfather had warned him to be wary around the Slytherins, because of their reputation for dark magic–”

“So he decided he was an eleven year old dark wizard and had to be punished?” Harry completed.

Lily shifted uncomfortably. “Well. Yeah. More or less. Yeah.”

“Dad was kinda a bully when he was young, wasn’t he?”

“What makes you think he stopped?” his mother muttered, and then she guiltily changed the subject. It wasn’t enough, but Harry knew enough about his mother’s temper not to press his luck.


	7. Birthday Pt. 1

Snape cleared his throat awkwardly. “Harry, I wanted to say thank you for allowing me to accompany you and your mother on your birthday brunch. I know it’s been…uncomfortable for both of us, transitioning into our new roles, but I am–I am glad that we’ve allowed each other this presence.”

Harry marveled briefly at the awkward diction. The more uncomfortable Snape was, the more syllables he used. “Well, er, thanks. Yeah.” And the more uncomfortable Harry got, the more monosyllabic he spoke. “You’re a decent not-stepdad. It could be worse.”  
  
Severus made a face at him. “Not-stepdad?”

“I feel like you’re too old to be somebody’s boyfriend,” Harry grinned. “And you and Mum have been dating awhile anyway. But yeah. Thanks for looking out for me.”  
  
Lily was still in the shower, singing grandly, “UNDER PRESSURE, THAT BURNS A BUILDING DOWN, THAT SPLITS A FAMILY IN TWO–”

Harry caught Snape’s eye. They both settled in the living room, Severus on the armchair that was now his spot, Harry on the couch.

“Before I forget,” Severus reached into his pocket. “I asked your mother what to get for your birthday, and since I am not enabling any sort of Quidditch training before school starts–”

“Only because you know I’ll beat Slytherin,” Harry interrupted.

“Because your mother would probably leave me if your broom throws you after you apply this, ah, flying balm–this might be some use to you.” He handed Harry an old plastic red box, the sort one puts jewelry in. Harry looked at him confused, and slowly opened it. In it was a pocket watch, silver and simple. Harry bit his lip.

“It was my grandfather’s–”

The doorbell rang. The shower stopped. Harry put the box aside and abruptly stood up. “I’ll get it.”

He opened the door and his father was standing there, affable and mildly windswept as always. “Harry,” James said warmly, opening his arms up, “happy birthday!”


	8. Birthday Pt. 2

“Dad!” Harry felt himself grinning. He hugged him. “I thought you were with Andromeda!”  
  
James tousled his hair. Harry shook him off, laughing. “I couldn’t miss my only son’s seventeenth birthday. You know, this is the big one.”

“Yeah,” Harry pulled back. “We’re having the big party later tonight. Come out to the Burrow at 6, that’s when everyone will be over. It’ll be easier for the Order that way. Mum should be just stepping out of the shower.” Harry stopped, still blocking James from entering the apartment. Lily would not be pleased to have James here. Harry bit his lip and glanced behind quickly. Lily was standing there in a bathrobe, still dripping, looking displeased. She held her wand in her hand. “Uh, Dad, maybe it’ll be better if you come back later? Mum and I made plans–”

“Can’t see why we can’t have the family together for this,” James said bracingly, and pushed his way into the apartment.  
  
Lily barely let him through the door. “James. Do explain why you are in my house right now, with no invitation, with no advance warning, with no good reason–”

“Hey, Lily,” James said easily. He was wearing wellcut summer robes, Harry noticed, suited for the beach. Harry frowned. “It’s the kid’s birthday. Don’t you think it’s right to have the family together for his seventeenth?”

“We’re having a party with the Order at the Burrow. With the Longbottoms. You and Andromeda should’ve gotten the invitation a month ago. After you agreed that there was no need for us to host something together.”  
  
James smiled. “C’mon, Evans. Plans can change, lighten up a little.”

“Actually, they cannot,” Lily said sharply. “We have a reservation at Harry’s favorite brunch spot, just for the three of us–”

“The three of you?” James frowned. “Well, there’s the three of us!”

Harry caught Severus’ eye. Severus was watching from the armchair, unmoving, but his wand was in his hand.  
  
“Yes, James,” Lily said. “The three of us. Myself, Harry, and my partner of the past three years, who recently moved in with us.”

“You haven’t been dating anyone, though,” James said slowly. “Have you?”

Lily massaged the bridge of her nose. “Clueless as always, James.”


	9. Birthday Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: discussion of sexual assault, actual conversation about the ambiguities of love potions in the Potterverse in the next part

Into the awkward silence, James said, “So who’s the lucky man?”

Severus finally emerged from his armchair, into the fray. “Ah, that would be me.” He put an arm around Lily, who stepped a bit closer. Neither of them pocketed their wands. Lily’s hair was leaving a wet spot on Snape’s shirt, though.

“You got to be fucking kidding me,” James breathed. He ran his fingers through his hands. “Snape, Lily?”

Harry cleared his throat. The adults did not look his way, but were too focused glaring at each other. “Merlin’s saggy left tit,” Harry muttered. He cleared his throat again, more loudly this time. “Professor Snape moved in during the Christmas holidays. Which I spent at Hogwarts, because you and Andromeda were going to Berlin. So I didn’t know until the first day of vacation. But it’s been good. Mum’s been happy. Dad, can you just let us get ready now?”  
  
“It is the boy’s birthday,” Snape said neutrally. Harry saw his mother step on his foot lightly, then squeeze his hand. Ew.

“He’s a Death Eater, Lily, you can’t be serious. You can’t be having him around Harry–”

“Harry would like to remind you that he’s right here and has been in a classroom with him since Year One,” Harry said rudely while Snape groaned, “Oh, there goes my cover: blown. Whatever shall I do? Run crying to the Dark Lord, ‘obliviate, obliviate!’” They glanced at each other and looked away. Severus was now smirking. Harry was beginning to get upset.

James squared his chest. “Right, then. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let Meda talk me into the second honeymoon. Harry, I’ve got two tickets for Puddlemore United burning a hole in my pocket, and you’re going with me.”

“You think you can ask me first?” Harry said, exasperated.

“No, he was never very good at that,” Lily snapped. “This was supposed to be your summer, James, but I set aside my travel plans to take care of my son, whom I love dearly.” She shot him a fond glance, Harry rolled his eyes, by now he knew he wasn’t a burden on her. “The least you can do is check with us, to make sure we don’t have any plans.”

“I can’t believe you’re dating Snape,” James said. “What the hell’s gone into you, Lily? He called you a mudblood!”

“Oh, that was fucking years ago!” Lily snapped. “Not like you were any better, dousing me with a fucking _love potion_ seventh year and forcing me to sleep with you!”  
  
Now that was backstory Harry dearly wished he had not known.


	10. Birthday Pt. 4

Into the horrified silence, Severus remarked, “That escalated quickly.”

“It was just a _love potion_ , Lily,” James shouted, “and you said it was fine–we’ve talked about every year since it damn well happened, Lily! You still married me! You had my son!”

Sparks were flying from the tip of his mother’s wand. Lily stepped away from Snape. “It wasn’t just a love potion! You took away my choice–if you had bothered to fucking _ask_ , rather than drugging me up for your idiot mates to laugh at–”

“It’s been _twenty_ _fucking years_ , Lily, what do you want me to say that I haven’t said already? It’s not illegal, I said I was sorry, we’re not even together anymore! Why the fuck bring it up now?”

Severus stepped forward, grabbing Harry’s arm, and pulled him out of the apartment. The sounds of quarreling still pounded through the door. “You shouldn’t have to hear that,” Snape said. “Let’s get a coffee.”

Furiously Harry followed him down the stairs, crashing onto the pavement. “This is the fucking _worst_ birthday, I don’t understand how my dad thought that would be a good idea, it would’ve been cool to spend it with him, but he _just needed to ask!”_ Horror rose like bile up his throat. “I don’t-I don’t understand. Why did she even marry him–”

Severus steered him into the coffee shop. The barista looked up. “Two Irish coffees, the boy’s of age, it’s his birthday,” he barked, ordering it straight into the worker’s eyes. Harry wondered if he were able to use those creepy tunnel-like eyes for compulsion magic, like Voldemort could. His stomach sank. He didn’t want to think about compulsion right now.

The drink were delivered, and they sat down at a rickety metal table in the garden. Snape muttered, “Muffliato,” and to Harry’s questioning look, he said drolly, “a muffling spell.” Huh: maybe Harry was supposed to get that from context. Snape sighed, a harsh expulsion of breath, and continued, “You should ask your mother about it; this is her story, not mine, but from what I think is appropriate for me to share–love is complicated. When you are alone, and afraid, and being hunted, and the one person who has been able to protect you, hurts you–and the people around you laugh it off and said what he did was normal, that you’re overreacting–it takes awhile for the implications to sink in. To process it. And that love you feel for the person who hurts you, it doesn’t go away. Not immediately. People rarely fall out of love so suddenly, so cleanly.”

Harry fingered his coffee. He had never liked Bailey’s. “You called her a mudblood.”

“Don’t use that word.”

“Aren’t you a halfblood? Your father’s a muggle, isn’t he?”

“The watch I gave you is muggle-made, yes. The mill gave it to my grandfather for his retirement.”

“Why’d you call her that?”

“It’s complicated. We didn’t speak, not until you were a toddler, after that.”

Harry met Snape’s gaze steadily. Snape’s eyes flickered slightly, and he took a deep sip from his coffee. Harry stirred his, waited for Snape to come back up for air. “Tell me. Please. Sir.”

“My father was not a kind man. And I grew up in harsher economic circumstances than your mother. Growing up…it was difficult finding anything good in the muggle world, and going to back and forth from Hogwarts only worsened it. I was wracked with resentment, particularly when I saw her as profiting off those who were tearing me down, for my own unclean blood. Hypocrisy,” Snape seemed to savor the word, “always did me in.”

“And you joined the Death Eaters. Not just as a spy.”

“It seemed my only option,” Snape shifted. “And not a bad one. I don’t want to excuse what I did. There are no excuses. I stood by and let good people be killed. I nearly got your mother killed, and I am so, so very _blessed_ to have your mother’s forgiveness. That she has welcomed me back into her life, let me be in yours–she has always been the light in my darkness.” He looked steadily at Harry, who fidgeted. “She has always been able to see the good in people. Even when no one else can.”

“Like my dad.”

Snape paused. “Harry, I can’t comment fairly on that. I know he never… _coerced_ her, afterward. It’s no excuse. He should’ve had his wand snapped for what he did. I hate him,” he said plainly, “I always have. Since I was eleven years old. This is not something I will ever be–kind to you, I can’t say what you need me to say. If you’re looking for excuses, you can’t come to me.”

Harry drank his coffee, bittersweet scalding his throat. “So what do I do now?”

“I’ll go check on Lily. We still have a half hour before our reservation. Let’s try to salvage what we can from this day. It could always be worse.”

“How can this get worse?”

“For my seventeenth birthday, my best friend killed my father,” Snape said, smiling unpleasantly. “It can always get worse. Suffer the little children.” And with an elegant little gesture, Snape swooped up and away. Harry gaped after him. That had made him feel worse. He was going to _shout_ , when he saw his father, and it was going to be loud.


	11. Birthday Pt. 5

After his parents’ divorce, Harry and his mother didn’t speak much. Lily’s insistence on family therapy made things works. Harry’d never been particularly communicative–it drove Ron and Hermione mad–and being forced to speak just made him more silent.

James had been good, though, before Andromeda had gotten too controlling, taking him on trips with them, going to Quidditch games, generally keeping up a constant stream of chatter where Harry just had to smile. And the stories of the good old days with the Marauders, before his parents started dating, those always kept him on the edge of his seat: sneaking into Slughorn’s office and charming all his Slytherin paraphernalia red, unleashing Peeves onto the Great Hall during the Halloween feast, ambushing the Slytherin dorms (and first years) with red paint–he wish he’d been capable of having that much fun. James had even mentioned once his friends had set off fireworks the night his parents had officially gotten together. While he would’ve hexed Fred if he’d even aired of the idea of being that obnoxious, he thought the friendship was cute.

Professor Snape disrupted that, from those uncomfortable but ultimately successful Occlumency lessons last year to bitten-back snide comments in class. He knew Sirius and Peter didn’t like him, that first Christmas during first year Sirius had spent it making fun of “Perfesser Snivellus” while Lily grew more and more tense until she finally snapped at them, which had Sirius making fun of her, which had James snapping at both of them, which sent Peter into a panic attack There was all too much history between them, and Harry was pissed at how much their bad relationships fucked up his life.

This was the worst birthday ever. And the coffee wasn’t very good, either.

The door bell chimed. Harry looked up. His father was there, clothes transfigured into “cool dad” muggle clothes, not nearly as close-fitting as Professor Snape’s. Harry looked away. He drank his coffee. He really didn’t like Bailey’s.

“Hey, Harry,” James approached. “Can we talk?”

“Oh, we can,” Harry growled. “But that doesn’t mean that we will.”

James gave him a hard stare, and he slid into the seat Snape had just vacated. “Your mother and I talked things through, and we’re sorry we derailed your birthday like this. But I just wanted to say, and your mother agreed you should be told, and even Snapey said it was a good idea if I ever wanted you to speak to me again–Harry, this isn’t something easy for me to talk about.”

“Telling your son you raped his mother? I’d imagine so.”

James winced. “You really have been spending too much time around Snape.”

Harry scowled.

“Fine. I’ll lay off him. Don’t see what you see–fine. Sorry.” James folded his hands, leaned forward. “I was doused with that love potion too.”

Harry enunciated, “Bull-fuck-ing-shit.”

James looked upset. “Listen, Harry, I can push boundaries and be obnoxious sometimes–believe me, your mother and Andromeda have let me know–but there are lines I wouldn’t cross if I were in my right mind. My friends were playing a prank, it got out of hand. It’s not the first time that happened. And it’s not the first time I was the only one to face any consequences–”

“I think Mum had to face more than you did.”

“Well, she stayed with me, didn’t she?” James looked at him defiantly. “She knew I didn’t mean to. She blamed Remus–”

“Who?”

“An old friend. A former friend. It doesn’t matter. And yes, she’s still angry with me for having such shitty friends, for not checking my drink, for not checking hers, for not being more stern or controlling or whatever the fuck she expected from me. She’ll always be. And Snape was right–love potions should be illegal, and all four of us should’ve gotten our wands snapped, I had a feeling they’d done something but it was all a prank, you see?”

“A prank’s when Fred and George write scathing commentary in Hermione’s planner, or when the Hufflepuffs steal all the Gryffindor common room furniture and put it on top of the Great Hall. Not when you let your friends drug you and your girlfriend to see what happens.”

“That may be so.”

“It’s not a matter of _may_ , Dad!” Harry banged his fist on the table. “It’s a matter of what _is_!”

James put his hand up. “Alright! Alright. Harry, you’re causing a scene, people are staring. You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Harry wasn’t done yet. “You and Mum always do this. You keep dragging all your fucking– _backstory_ around and it just fucking runs my life. I can’t go to a class without Flitwick tutt-tutting over how my work isn’t as inspired as Mum’s, McGonagall saying I must be a late bloomer, _Filch fucking stalks me_ , and Severus did too, the first few years, never let me into the potions ingredients during office hours either. And it’s always, no we can’t speak to Mum’s family because of some shitty thing you did at her sister’s wedding, no we can’t go back to Godric’s Hollow because people think divorce is unwizardly and Mum doesn’t want to deal with the whispers, or everywhere I go with you, it’s always about James Potter and James Potter’s son, James Potter throwing gold everywhere and being the life of the crowd, he should be a Quidditch commentator, pity his son’s not as funny–”

“Are you saying you’re resentful?”

“THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR SUMMER!” Harry yelled. “WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GO ON VACATION! I WAS SUPPOSED TO SPEND MY BIRTHDAY WITH YOU! MUM HAD _PLANS_ , DAD, SHE HAD BEEN PLANNING THIS VACATION FOR YEARS! BUT YOU DITCHED ME FOR MY FUCKING BLACK WIDOW OF A STEPMOTHER–”

James grabbed him and wrestled him out of the coffee shop, throwing far too much money on the table (especially for a bill already paid by Severus). Harry kept shouting, but it was coming out more muted now they were outside, “How many breaks have I stayed at school because Andromeda’s decided you’re going traveling and didn’t buy a ticket for me? How many birthdays have Andromeda and Nymphadora missed–”

“Tonks,” James corrected.

“Fine, fucking _Tonks_ , because somehow they’ve always got something schedule on that day?”

“Tonks had her Auror graduation ceremony, Harry, if that’s what you’re referring too.”

“You’re her _stepdad_ ,” Harry rounded him, stopping at the corner. “Not her father. You’re my father! And you missed my fourteenth birthday to spend it with her! And Severus, well, he asked fucking permission in advance if I was comfortable with him being there for his birthday, he already told me he’s not going to go to the Order party, but he’s been good when I’ve had friends over, he hasn’t been upset that this vacation he and Mum have been planning since they were like twelve got derailed–he’s been trying with me, and mostly it’s been awkward and awful because this is Snape we’re talking about, but at least he tries!”

James was irritated. “Well, Harry, I don’t know what you want me to say, I’ve already said I’m sorry.”

“Just stop talking! Just fucking stop talking.”

They walked back to the apartment in silence.


	12. Birthday Pt. 6

James hesitated before he left Harry at his flat, but just touched his arm and said nothing. Harry scowled and said nothing, and turned his back to unlock the door. as his father popped away. He swung the door open, stepped in the house, and looked around.

Severus was rapidly whisking something sweet-smelling in the kitchen. His mother was not in sight, but he could hear the shower running. The Beatles were playing on the sound system: “Boy, you gonna carry that weight, carry that weight, carry that weight a long time…” It ended abruptly. Severus barely looked up while Harry dithered at the threshold, unsure of what to say.

He watched Severus pour the mix into a cake pan and tap it with his wand. Before their eyes, the mix baked. The house was filled with the smell of cake.

“Are you a stress baker?” Harry asked in disbelief.

Snape began spreading icing onto the cake. He was, indeed, stress-baking.

“This is so fucked up,” Harry muttered.

“Language, Mr. Potter,” Professor Snape said, finishing up the cake. “Do you want to eat this now or wait until after lunch?”

“Wait, you mean I can have my cake and eat it too?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Right, that’s your job.”

Severus’ eyes glinted. “Yes, Harry,” he said, satisfied. “That is, indeed, my job.”

Harry sat down at the counter. His mother’s boyfriend wasn’t wearing an apron, at least, so the moment was feeling that surreal. “You all have too much baggage.”

“Really? I wasn’t able to notice over the crippling rage I feel whenever I see your father’s face.”

Harry snorted. “You’d think Mum would be better about it.” Pausing, he looked up at Severus, who was now methodically slicing the cake into thinner and thinner slices, to suit even the most persnickety dieter. He really was a stress baker. “I don’t understand why she brought that up. Or why she ever stayed with him. Why she didn’t–I mean, I know people take love potions pretty casually, and I guess no one took it seriously because my dad was drugged too, but–”

“Trauma is tricky. She was already on edge about the Order party. It’s Sirius and Peter who trigger her the worst, not your father, she normally has a different set of complexes about him–but, Harry, this is a conversation you ought to be having with her. I’m only…” Severus trailed off.

“My stepfather?”

The shower turned off. They heard the curtain rustle, the sounds of a drying charm, a muffled curse when it hit Lily’s hair wrong. Severus served Harry cake. They were both on their third minuscule slice by the time Lily emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed.

“Don’t tell me you started the party without me!” Lily tried cheerfully.

Harry just stared at her. Visibly Lily deflated. Severus took the entire cake pan and retreated to the bedroom. Harry was a bit annoyed. It was good-smelling cake, too.


	13. Birthday Pt. 7

“Well, Harry,” Lily said, twisting her hair around her finger, “happy birthday.”

Harry gave her one long stare that had her giggling nervously at the end of it. Wordlessly they sat down on opposite ends of the couch. Harry folded his arms, but Lily leaned forward. “Your dad…explained things a bit?”

Harry huffed, refolded his arms, refolded his legs. He rounded on her. “Mum, I don’t get it. I mean, you and Dad were always weird when I was a kid, I remember that much. But why the hell did you stay with him? Why’d you let–Uncle Sirius and Uncle Peter be–why’d you even bring it up?”

Lily regarded him sadly. Harry noticed that there were faint lines at her eyes now, leftover from laughter. She laughed a lot, and was normally a bit silly, in her own fastidious way. “Babe, some things just stick…no matter how much time passes. It had nothing to do with you–just, last night Sev and I were joking about how horrifically awkward the Order party would be if he came, and I suppose it brought old things up…Harry, you have to understand, this isn’t something I can help. I can’t make all this history disappear.”

“Why did you stay with him?” Harry repeated. “Why’d you stay?”

Lily closed her eyes and moved away. She bit her lip. Harry scowled guiltily, tightened in on himself. He knew his mother had issues, she had always been so rigid about routines–from mealtimes to bathtimes to her morning run and shower, even if it made him late for school. She had nightmares about the war. She didn’t like going to Hogwarts when she could help it, but went to every match Gryffindor played. She had not fussed at all about James leaving this summer to Harry, and she was careful about not fussing too much about his father around him. He’d overheard her complaining to Snape, of course, and the first time he had ever seen Snape laugh out loud was at an Order meeting with both his parents, after his father went on a grand exegesis about Puddlemore United and his mother just leaned over and whispered something into his ear. She tried.

His mother took in a deep breath. She exhaled, and began: “I didn’t want to believe it happened. Especially when love potions, using them as jokes like that, was so normal–is so normal, even now…and James, he was drugged too. Even if he knew, had a feeling they were going to do it. Went along with it. At that point, my parents had just been killed, Tuney wasn’t talking to me, Sev and I were ignoring each other in the hallways, my friendship with Mary was falling apart, Marlene was so obsessed with Sirius nothing could get through to her.” She looked at him hard. “I had no one else. I had no one. No one but your father, and his friends. And I let them scapegoat Remus, who was supposed to be the responsible one. I got mad at him for not stopping them. For never stopping them. And blamed him for everything. James took my side. Sirius took James’, and you know how your Uncle Peter is…it just seemed so done. And I really really didn’t want to think about it.”  
  
Harry was silent. He was thinking about Ron and Hermione, all that drama about Crookshanks startling Errol into a heart attack, and how readily he took Ron’s side. Fred and George were selling love potions at their store, and he had seen Hermione and Ginny giggling over them–and hadn’t Mrs. Weasley ensnared Mr. Weasley through a carefully-diluted Amortentia cauldron cake? _Witches Weekly_ sold the recipe. And last year, when Romilda Vane had accidentally drugged Seamus, they had all laughed it off, though Dean had been pretty pissed off. He said, “I don’t think I have a right to judge you about this. Excet for that it slipped out on my most important birthday.”

Lily bit her lip, held out her arms. Harry hugged her. He felt her shudder back a sob. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Me too, Mum. I’m sorry.”

When she released him from the embrace, Harry looked up blurrily to find Severus lounging in the hallway, watching blankly. He pushed his glasses up, wiped his eyes.

“All good, Sev,” Lily called. Severus walked over and put his arms around her. She leaned into him, closing her eyes, and he slid onto the couch. Their fingers interlaced. It was all really too much, they were acting worse than Lavender and Pavarti when they finally came out. Harry made a face.

“You’re expected at the Burrow in three hours,” Sev murmured. Harry figured he wasn’t speaking to him. Lily grunted.

Harry shrugged. “So what now?”

Severus looked at him sharply. His mother stayed still.

He figured he was supposed to figure out what to do next. “Well, we could go see Fargo,” he said hopefully. “They have a showing in half an hour. Since you wouldn’t let me see it with Hermione. And it is my birthday.”

Lily suddenly sprang off the couch. “Ugh, alright! Let’s go!” She marched off towards the door. “I can deal with dead hookers! And that stupid accent!”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You still have a Northern burr, what are _you_ calling stupid?”

“Min-ne-sooo-ta,” Lily mocked. “It’s disgusting.”

So of course Harry had to spend the next five hours talking to her in a bad Minnesota accent, the pinnacle of hilarity being right before they got to the apparition point and Severus slipping into it. Laughing while side-alonging, it turned out, just make you puke when you got to the other side–and so Lily and Harry were literally retching with laughter when they stumbled into the Order’s backyard. It was going to be okay.


	14. Birthdays Pt. 8

“Harry dear, are you alright?” Mrs. Weasley asked. She was already summoning a few glasses of water, which came zooming over. Harry neatly plucked his out of the air; the other just knocked straight into and over his mother’s shirt. “Oh, I’m sorry, Lily!’ Lily waved her off, a quick _tergeo_ drying off her shirt; she filled her glass with water and rinsed and spat. Harry followed. “What happened?”

“Nothing, Molly,” Lily waved her off. “A very funny joke, which doesn’t go well side-along. I think I nearly coughed up a lung.” She clapped her hands. “Got a mint or two?”

“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Weasley hustled them over to the kitchen. “Have to be careful not to give you one of FredandGeorge’s,” she said it as one word, “gnomints, they shrivel your face so you look like a gnome….” They passed various Order members as they went by–Emmeline Vance, who was laughing a bit too loudly with Hestia Jones in the living room, the latter’s hat askew; Sturgis Podmore, who was gesticulating at an amused Kingsley; and Dedalus Diggle on his way out of the bathroom, who squeaked and tried to shake Harry’s hand as they passed. Lily shoved him–Harry, that is, not Diggle–forward, briskly saying, “Later, Diggle, later.”

The kitchen was as cramped and home-smelling as always, with a roast cooking away in the stove and more vegetables slicing themselves up. Mrs. Weasley grabbed a jar, muttered something under her breath–presumably the password–and pulled off the lid, shaking Pepper Imps to Lily and Harry. They endured the smoke and fire, and Lily patted Harry on the back when the magic was done.

“I’ll see you later,” she said. “Go have fun.“ 

Harry looked at her doubtfully, then grinned. "I’ll try not to shout at anyone.”

“Please.”

Harry set off, intent to find Ron and Hermione. He shook Sturgis Podmore’s hand, endured a slap on the back from Hagrid that nearly buckled his knees, and awkwardly returned a prim nod from Professor McGonagall, who still disapproved of his mother’s divorce. He reached the staircase, and a hand grabbed at him. He whirled around, nervous: but it was just Ginny grinning up at him. She’d shaved half of her head, the right side, and had a single fang hanging from her ear, just like Bill. She looked good. Harry made a note to ask her how badly Mrs. Weasley had reacted to her hair; she’d been talking about doing it for ages, but he assumed she was going to wait until they returned to Hogwarts and have Dean, who had a side business as a barber, style it.

“Hey, Harry!” she nearly bounced. “We were wondering where you were. We’re all hiding in Ron’s room, Moody’s eye can’t see through three floors. Luna brought this elderberry wine…” Harry followed her up the stairs, enjoying her chatter, “of course, she says it’s the juice of the hornberry flower, but I think she’s just fucking with me.”

“Has your mom figured it out yet?”

“What? Oh, you mean,” she gestured to her hair, “no. She thinks I’m going through a rebellious phase, and still have a crush on you. Don’t do anything to dissuade her otherwise, you know. There’s a reason why Charlie ran all the way to Romania, and Bill to Egypt.”

“But Luna’s dad knows?”

“Oh yeah. Of course. But nobody takes him seriously anyway.” Ginny shrugged. They reached Ron’s room. Harry knocked smartly: shave-and-a-haircut, two-bits.

“Come in!” a cascade of voices chorused: Hermione, Ron, Luna, who dragged the vowels out, and Cedric. Ginny and Harry opened the door, and entered.


	15. Birthday Pt. 9

Luna was lying supine on Ron’s bed, but Harry noticed she’d saved the opposite side of her head as Ginny, but wore her usual turnip-thing earrings. Ron was sitting with his to the wall, feet stretched out, face blotchily red. He was clutching a mug and a stupid smile. Hermione and Cedric were curled up together. A large brown bottle of hornberry wine sat in the middle of the circle; judging from the overwhelmingly hyacinth smell of the room, they had been drinking.

“My brother,” Ron enunciated, “my man. My favorite brother.” He raised his mug. “To you.”

The rest echoed. Harry could feel Ginny smirking beside him. Hermione’s hand was wavering. Only Luna and Cedric looked entirely sober.

“You started without me,” Harry folded his arms. “And I’ve had such a rough day too.”

“Only because we love you, mate,” Ron nudged the bottle towards him with his foot. Cedric caught it before it could fall and handed him a glass. Ginny snorted and shook her head, throwing herself onto the bed. Luna began to hum, rolling up to begin to plait Ginny’s hair.

“Rough day?” Hermione asked.

Harry settled down, poured himself a glass, and began to sip. He had learned the dangers of drinking pretty early on; his mother had had a bit of a drinking problem, after the war. “Worst birthday ever. My dad showed up uninvited, tried to take me away when Mum had already made plans.” He hesitated: should he say more? He could tell Ron and Hermione in private, later, when everyone was sober.

Ron winced. “Tough luck, mate. Wasn’t he supposed to have you this summer anyway?”

“Yeah. I shouted a lot. In public. In the local coffeeshop.”

Luna wrapped her legs around Ginny and leaned forward over her shoulder. Her head bobbed excitedly. “I was wondering at the lack of Wrackspurts, Harry. You should shout more often. I’ve never seen the air so clear.”

Harry caught Hermione exchanging a glance with Cedric, who coughed. “It’s always good to get things out,” he said mildly. “Good communication is the key to a successful relationship.” Hermione beamed at him. Harry rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure he’d seen that in one of her planners. It was good that Hermione found somebody who respected her intelligence and encouraged her political career, but sometimes Harry wished Cedric weren’t so perfect.

Ron was staring at him. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Yeah.” Hermione hadn’t told him that she and Cedric were dating until after the Department of Mysteries.

A knock on the door: shave-and-a-haircut, two-bits. “Oy!” Ginny shouted. “Who is it?”

“You most handsome brother,” Fred called, “and his ugly twin. Oh, and Tonks. Let us in, we’ve got firewhiskey!”

Ginny looked at Ron, who looked at Hermione, who looked at Harry. Luna continued to hum, plaiting Ginny’s hair. Cedric just kept pouring himself wine.

“Well, it’s not like we can say no,” Harry shrugged.

Ginny got up and opened the door.


	16. Birthday Pt. 10

Tonks lurched in, tripped over the doorframe, and went sprawling into the center of the floor, knocking over the bottle of hornberry wine as she went. Everyone scattered. Harry, irritated, caught Ron’s eye. Ron made a face at him. Harry shook his head.

Tonks picked herself up. “Wotcher Harry!” she said cheerfully. “Happy birthday!”

“Yeah,” Harry said unenthusiastically. His neck prickled; Hermione was staring meaningfully at him. He cleared his throat. “Uh.” He faked a cough. “Sorry. Thanks.”

“Been a good birthday, then?” Tonks asked.

“Oh yeah, it’s been cool,” Harry lied. “Spent it with my mum and Professor Snape. Saw a movie, that Coen brothers movie.” He thought about adding how hilarious it had been, when Severus had slipped into the Minnesota accent.

Tonks frowned. Her hair darkened from pink to purple. Harry briefly caught a glimpse of another world where he thought she was one of the coolest people ever, like Bill; unfortunately now he just thought she was a bit naive. “I thought you went to the Puddlemore United game with James?”

“I chose to stick to my commitments,” Harry stated blandly. Hermione carefully, discretely poked him. He smiled. “It meant a lot to Mum.” It meant a lot to him.

Fred broke in, “Wow, can’t believe you spent it with OI’ Snapey of all people. What’s he been like?”

George added, “Threatening to take off points for the wrong deosil stir of the morning oatmeal? Trashing Gryffindor with every breath? Did he shower at all?”

“He gave me his grandfather’s watch, actually. It was a bit awkward in the beginning and honestly it’s still weird, but he’s been…” He trailed off. How could he describe the summer? Constantly wrongfooted, but never tiptoeing around: he’d learned more than he had ever wanted to know about his parents, but Snape had been relatively chill, though he still wasn’t very good at taking a joke at his own expense, not even from Lily. “Snape’s been pretty cool, actually. I mean, he’s touchy, but take him away from Neville’s exploding cauldrons and he’s actually pretty funny. And he makes my mum really happy.”

Hermione sighed. “Poor Neville. I can’t believe his grandmother is making him retake his Potions OWL on his birthday. It’s not he needs it for Herbology, not really.”

“It does look bad, though,” Cedric said mildly. “Think about it: a potions supplier who can’t synthesize anything more complicated than a boil cure?”

Grateful for the distraction, Harry sat back and let the conversation wash over him. He liked his friends. He liked them a great deal. Luna and Ginny were at a careful distance from each other, out of all the Weasleys only Ron and Percy knew, and Ginny was making up for the discomfort by being particularly belligerent to Fred and Tonks especially, who had been her first major crush. Ron played dumb and sarcastic, only reacting to what was said, and Cedric stayed mostly silent. He and Tonks had barely overlapped in Hogwarts, and he had never liked the twins. Cedric didn’t have much of a sense of humor. It made him a little difficult to talk to sometimes.

Eventually, they were called down, flushed and overheated and laughing, to the backyard, alit with candles and fairies in jars, where Mrs. Weasley had set up an enormous Golden Snitch cake. The entire Order, sans Severus and Professor Dumbledore, was there, beaming in the feylight. Lily looked a little teary. She was standing on the other side of the cake, away from his father. He walked to her. She half-hugged him. They sang happy birthday and then Harry had to endure everyone’s well wishes, various hugs from people he barely knew, hand-shakings, and intense questions on what he wanted to do with his future.

He didn’t know what he wanted. Voldemort was only just dead, but some of the Death Eaters were still at large, setting up Corban Yaxley as the new Dark Lord, and he knew he wanted a break from constantly being in danger. Eventually, he thought he might like to teach.For now, he wanted to survive his NEWTs.

“Ah, you’ll be an auror,” Professor McGonagall said. “Just like your dad was.”

James grinned and messed up his own hair. Lily conspicuously rolled her eyes.

Finally, Sirius came up to him, Peter as his heels as always. Harry stiffened. He’d always been a little intimidated by Sirius when he was younger, he’d been such a quiet kid and generally bullied for being weird at muggle school, and Sirius had always teased him for being silent and not wanting to answer questions. Of course, that had changed with Ron and Hermione, he’d come out of his shell, even thought he mostly stuck by them, but he never really knew what to say to him that he wouldn’t rather say to his own father. He glanced at his mother. She was outright scowling: the prank. Yeah.

“Hey, sport,” Sirius said, ruffling Harry’s hair. Harry tried not to scowl; nevermind the uncomfortable questions, this had always driven him insane. He patted his hair down, but it stayed as wild as always. “Been a good birthday with your dad?”

Suddenly, an absolutely evil idea crossed Harry’s mind. He grinned, looking at Peter’s pensive face, his father’s uncomfortable expression, his faintly murderous mother. He could make this worse. He could make this so much worse.

“Oh yeah. It’s been great. Didn’t you hear? Mum’s engaged!” Harry exclaimed happily. “She and Severus are getting married!”

James rounded on Lily. “You’re marrying _Snivellus_?”

“Don’t call him that! And no, Harry’s being a shit–”

“He’s a Death Eater, Lily!” James paused. “Don’t call my son a shit!”

“But I’m being a shit,” Harry said. “I’m starting shit. You’re a shit.”

“He’s got to have you imperiused,” Sirius said. He raised his wand. “Come on, we need to check for dark magic–”

“Put that fucking stick down before I punch your face in, Sirius, Harry’s being an ass.”

James grabbed her arm. “Lily, please, we need to talk about this–you can and should be doing so much better than that greasy weirdo–”

“He’s not that greasy,” Harry chimed in.

“You are such a little shit,” Lily said, “you have been spending far too much time with Severus–”

“Sirius, just cast the finite,” Peter urged.

“Lily, I thought you told me marriage was a bourgeois concept–is he forcing you into this–”

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk, James. _Will you just listen to me_ –”

“Finite incantatum!” Sirius shouted.

Nothing happened.

Lily looked at him flatly. “Are you done?”

“What?”

She picked up the cake platter and tossed it into Sirius’ face. Peter yelped, “Expel-expelliarmus!” Lily’s eyes widened, but she couldn’t cancel the curse quickly enough. The cake, resting on plates across the backyard and nestled in Sirius’ hair, blew up.

Between the Marauders, Lily, and Harry, they managed to pin the blame on Fred and George, who actually were contemplating blowing up the cake. When the misunderstanding was cleared, Harry feeling defensively smug, Lily just irritated, Jame and Sirius agreed that it was a most excellent prank. Peter just grinned awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Exactly how pranks should go: harm to none, maximize slapstick.”

When Lily attempted complaining to Severus, when they finally got back, Severus laughed so hard he snorted. All in all, Harry thought: worst birthday ever. But the cake disaster was pretty fun.


	17. vengeance

“The easiest way to create conflict,” Lily said, “is to throw a baby into the mix.”

Harry paused. “Mum, I think there’s already a pre-existing conflict if you’re throwing babies.”

Severus hummed over his newspaper.

Harry glanced at him. “What?”

Severus turned a page dramatically. “I am trying a new strategy your mother suggested. If I have nothing nice to say about your father, I–”

“Hum?”

“Mr. Potter, her directive does not apply to you.” Harry made a face. “I saw that.”

“You were supposed to.”

Lily clapped her hands. “As I was saying: babies cause conflict. So that’s why I was wondering–if I were pregnant, should I keep it?”

There was a long, awkward pause in which Severus and Harry stared at her, stared at each other, and stared at the ceiling and floor respectively.

Finally, Harry found his voice. “Mum, is that what you thought of me? I thought you wanted me.”

“Don’t be a dunderhead,” Lily said. “Of course I did. Maybe not at twenty years old, but–”

“Lily, I really don’t think I’m qualified to give an opinion on anything to do with your… reproductive facilities.” Severus folded his newspaper. “But if you keep it, I’d prefer my child to be born in wedlock.”

Harry had a brief vision of him carrying around a scowling green-eyed big-nosed baby. He also thought how nice it would be to have a kid sibling.

Lily raised an eyebrow. “That’s nice.” With that, she left the room.

Harry thought about what it would have been like to have a kid sibling, somebody to annoy and confide in, like Ron and Ginny; or to tease and support, like Bill did to Ginny. Maybe the kid would have red hair. He glanced at Snape, who was now slouched back in his chair, newspaper discarded, staring at the ceiling. Good Lord, what would _his_ kid be like? It’d be sarcastic straight out of the womb. Harry almost giggled, thinking about getting the dunderhead stare from a grouchy six month old. The idea was rather charming.

“So…” Harry broke into the silence. “A baby, huh?”

Severus cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

“It’d be nice to have a kid around. I can stay home for uni, and Mum wanted me to take that gap year at home anyway.”

“I never thought,” Severus said, voice perplexed, “that I would _ever_ , in any sort of way–she shouldn’t give it my name.”

Harry had a feeling that yet again he was treading on backstory territory. He skirted it: “I wonder it’ll come out scowling.”

Severus gave him such a sudden, sharp nasty glare that Harry laughed. Some of that man’s faces were so over the top, it was all he could do–and he could see why his mother ended up with this occasionally stuffy asshole, who wore his work boots inside and refused to go to bed until he had read the _Daily Prophet_. He could slip into parody so easily.

Lily walked back in. She settled on the couch with Harry, ruffled his hair. Harry made a face, his hair was messy enough. “Of course,” she said, “I was speaking only in hypotheticals. Got my tubes tied years ago.”

Severus led out a long, explosive breath. Harry gaped at her. “Then why’d you bring it up?” He had got his hopes up!

“To start shit.” She smirked at him, flicked his head, and left for the bedroom. Severus threw the newspaper onto the coffee table and quickly followed her. Harry could already hear her laughing at him before the door resolutely, firmly, shut. He sighed, and did what he always did when he was left alone and bored. He called Hermione, who laughed at him too. Her parents had just had a new replacement baby, and she wasn’t enjoying it. They bitched and whined.

“But seriously,” Hermione said, “you dodged a bullet. Imagine him in class, with your mother’s child. Your mom visiting at school with the kid. Malfoy would have a field day.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Dodged a bullet there. No Snapelings for us, thank Merlin.”


End file.
